


Entangling Webs

by Fantastic Beasts and Where 2 Fondle Them (WideTheWaters)



Series: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Fondle Them [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Acromantulas, BAMF Luna Lovegood, Banter, Crack Treated Seriously, Creation Myth, Creature Fic, Creature Inheritance, Curse Breaking, Curses, Demigods, Double Penetration, Exophilia, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Elements, Fantastic Beasts And Where to Fondle Them, For Science!, Giant Spiders, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Human/God Sex, Human/Monster Romance, Interspecies, Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Knotting, Magizoologist Luna Lovegood, Magizoology (Harry Potter), Minor Deities, Mythic Proportions, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology References, Non-Human Genitalia, Open Marriage, Other, Pansexual Luna Lovegood, Polyamorous Character, Porn With Plot, Research, Rough Sex, Shapeshifter Battle, Shapeshifting, Shapeshifting during sex, Smut, Spells & Enchantments, Spiders, Starring Luna Lovegood, Teratophilia, Trickster Gods, Tricksters, Xenophilia, creature luna lovegood, spider bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23242990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WideTheWaters/pseuds/Fantastic%20Beasts%20and%20Where%202%20Fondle%20Them
Summary: Intrepid Magizoologist Luna Lovegood has had a relatively peaceful couple of years, but it couldn't last - especially not after her mysterious fairy grandmother asks for a favor.That favor, it turns out, makes Luna's tendency gethands-onwith the objects of her scientific studies more perilous than ever before - not that that will stop her, even when this particular specimen doesn't have what you could call hands, really... at least not in his accursed state.  But how far will she go to free him?(At this point, need you even ask?)
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Original Male Character, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood
Series: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Fondle Them [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533881
Comments: 17
Kudos: 42





	1. Change and Constants

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings: graphic interspecies (heck, inter-zoological-phylum) sex. Consent but also some scariness.

## 

###  April, 2013, Cadracally Castle , Rathlin Island

All three of the children were walking now. Luna glowed in quiet contentment as she watched them frolic in a large courtyard, head resting on arms folded over the tower windowsill. They were supervised there by Mabeline, as she’d insisted she continue to be called, fussily knitting Acromantula silk and pretending to scowl at her granddaughters’ hijinks, which seemed to involve blowing and chasing bubbles of accidental magic. It could really be any of them casting, these days; all possessed rare control. 

“You’re distracted,” came a gruff voice from behind her, the vibration of it sending tingles through her sensitive nether-lips in the chill of his tongue’s sudden absence.

“Mmmm,” she agreed, nodding happily as she heard him stand and felt him aligning himself with her wet entry. “I like my family, and, hmmm, I know I won’t-” she gasped a little as he gripped her hips and pushed roughly into her, “-won’t be allowed this… forever… mmm-” she panted, eyes widening as he cast some manor of modified engorgio charm and started thrusting in her, “... em… no more… talking… for me…” She mewled helplessly then as he redoubled his pace, the quick metronome slap of his hips rebounding from hers setting a pace for her shallow breaths as his magically altered length seemed almost to unfurl within her, stretching her wide.

He was only a little short of breath, his voice smug as it rumbled over her shoulder when he lent forward to nip it. “I believe I’ve created a variation with a texture you might fancy, love.”

Oh, and she  _ did _ fancy. As he shoved her cheek and breasts down onto the cold marble of the sill, she felt the muscles of her desperately spread walls flutter around a sort of spiraling ridge that had spun around his length. It was a miracle she’d thank magic for later that he had the strength to continue despite the drag it created as it rasped within her, each thread a little pop with each exit and entry. 

He’d looked at that Muggle catalog for inspiration, she thought, as her fingernails scrabbled about for the ornamental lip beneath the sill to hold on to, casting a wandless chill up through the marble to keep it cold against her flushed skin as an afterthought. 

_ Goddesses and gods bless the magical elasticity of this cunt _ , she thought blissfully, reflecting on how such a screwing might strip any other thread.

Then he reached his wand down around and in front of her, setting it humming and thrumming with vibration before touching it to her swollen clit, and the scene devolved into atavistic want and pleasure as she tore her voice raw.


	2. Fae Favors

After a gentler interlude following in the bath, Luna left Neville to dress and wandered to the kitchen, where Took had already outwitted her ambitions of fetching her own snack. 

“Mistress will find figs and cheese in the Breakfast Room,” he smirked, handing her a frothy, cool goblet of mead. “Also, Mistress should know, hmm, that she broke the silencing charm on the Screaming Tower agai-” 

“I  _ wish _ we didn’t call it that!” Luna complained.

“ _ -again _ , and we calls it what it is, Mistress,” Took continued, unruffled but a little more deeply settled into his smirk. “Had it up again, though, in seconds. The young Misses, the Mistress should know, thought it quite the lark, and Miss Ersa even applauded.”

Luna furrowed her brow only a little, pondering that as she thanked him and drifted toward the food. They had been asking for babies to sing to.

When she arrived in the breakfast room, it was to see her grandmother there, old nanny’s guise ever firmly in place, humming pleasantly as she poured an amphora of honey over the figs and goat cheese. When Luna entered, she looked up with a twinkle and pushed the plate toward her.

Luna regarded her curiously for a moment before plunging her fingers into the honey to seize a fig and bringing it, dripping, to her lips.

The older woman’s smile deepened. “Ah, good. I wonder, then, my dear: may I send you on a quest?”

Luna’s eyebrow quirked as she licked her fingers and lips clear of the sticky sweetness.

Mab seemed to take this as permission to go on. “Part, of course, is that I can’t tell you much, and that you must leave now, tonight, without preparing much - but though your line is secure, I would not send you thus were it not both important and, I believe, very likely survivable." She chewed at her wizened lower lip meditatively before amending, "Well. At least by  _ you _ .”

Luna’s large, eerily pale eyes regarded her grandmother thoughtfully. She had never before asked anything more of her than to pass food at the table. “Very _likely?_ ”

Half taking this as acceptance, the older woman relaxed a bit, nodding and taking a fig for herself - though no honey clung to her fingers. “I think, actually, it might be a good first foray back into fieldwork for you. And into… the unique gifts you have to offer the magical world. You might even enjoy it, if you survive - which, again, I think you likely will.”

Luna sighed, choosing her words carefully after quite a lot of instruction and reading on the subject of the fae, indebtedness, thanks, and favors. “And any balance between us will be affected… how?”

A light peeked out from beneath a flickering of the elder woman’s guise, a glimpse of power and terrible beauty. This only happened at important moments, Luna knew; she’d only seen it before, say, around first steps, first words.

“To your benefit.”

Luna popped another fig in her mouth and shrugged, cocking her head and giving in to curiosity.

“What must I do?”

“Settle a debt and perhaps create a new balance of favors with a … powerful magical entity unlike any you’ve yet studied?”

Luna’s sticky fingers absentmindedly fidgeted with her locket, where she always kept a shrunken field notebook and pencil. “Hmm. Alright.”

Mab’s smile was somehow cavernous, growing eerily when it lit in response. “Good,” she said, before the dark swallowed Luna.


	3. Fit to be Tied

###  Kerangas Forest, Borneo

Luna landed on something springy in the humid dark, the aroma of thriving plants and the sounds of nocturnal insects pressing in on her immediately. She gasped, trying to take stock of her surroundings. 

First, she realized that the fae queen had somehow managed to get her into the silk gown she’d been knitting, which had a strange but not unpleasant earthy scent to its trailing skirts and a very scant bodice, neckline plunging and straps mere strands of slightly iridescent thread. The entire thing shimmered like a softly-glowing rainbow, and any given patch of it studied closely appeared to be transparent, though the entirety of the thing obscured her form from view in its reflection of light. 

Her hair had been taken down, too - and strands of the same shimmering silk had been subtly interwoven with it. 

Her person was intact, at least, and … it felt like some manner of rainforest. Hmm. Where it was dark, but who knew what the fairy monarch had done to the passage of time in transporting her? Still; an occasional star could be glimpsed through a thick canopy, and the sounds of water wafted up from below.

Water she was not standing in. In fact… 

Luna was fascinated to find herself suspended in a large, tightly-woven, and nigh-invisible web.

Which suddenly shook slightly, some distant resonance sounding the strings beneath her.

And then, the growl of a low, inhuman voice, “She  _ dare?!” _

Even Luna Lovegood, intrepid Magizoologist, mother of headstrong daughters, ruler of contentious peoples, fighter of norms, and lover of many, could not help but pale as her eyes suddenly locked on eight black-red orbs glinting in the dimness and growing rapidly closer as the web beneath her bounced with the approach of something very large… and very angry.


	4. Infamous

In a very quick moment, Luna was pinned beneath the shining carapace of the largest Acromantula ever to be recorded. Well. Not yet recorded. She would need to figure out that bit later. But! The eldest known example of the species  _ had _ been the size of a large draft horse, and this one was more like the size of an Asian elephant. 

Completely oblivious to the threat the massive arachnid posed in the height of her academic rapture, she ignored his alternate chittering clacks and muttered expletives to reach up and raptly stroke his right chelicera from broad, coarsely-haired root to shining, horn-like tooth. It glowed the bright, bright green of a june beetle’s carapace, iridescent gold and copper flares at every bend, and was nearly the length of her arm. She shivered involuntarily, mind streaking through calculations and size estimates as the heart-shaped plate of the underside of his cephalothorax, surrounded by the joints from which stemmed all his carapaced legs, glided up and settled over her close enough to draw her silk dress against it in fits of static cling. 

Finally, dimly, recognition of some of his words broke her from her reverie.

“Swore only the willing gift of her  _ own flesh _ would ever break this curse from me, and she taunts me with this morsel that reeks of her, after all I did to help her, after the  _ sincerity  _ that monstrous bitch squooze from my wild heart, to leave me here to  _ rot _ , and not the first, no, no, the little delicacies, the nymphs, only torture, only empty,” his voice grated dangerously low, “jibes… meaningless cast-offs… nothing but a dung beetle to clean up after her haughty, horrific...”

Luna’s brow went up, trying to figure out how to look the spider in the eye when her eyes were so outnumbered. “I beg your pardon? Em. I would love to talk to you, sir, and understand what troubles you so. I… well,” she pushed her long, spider-silked hair behind her ear and blushed slightly, as she only could when at the edge of something new and bold now. “I have  _ never _ ,” she gushed, “in my  _ life _ seen a more absolutely exquisite creature than you, and, well, it’s hard to properly take you in from this vantage.”

That made the vast Acromantula drift off his most recent venomous rant. “It speaks and says  _ what _ , again?” he rumbled.

Luna blinked up, her fingers fumbling the field journal from her locket and her hands setting to scribble automatically. “May I sit up? Please know I’m not going anywhere, but you rather have the advantage of me.”

With a venomous spit, literal and figurative, the spider seized her waist with the tarsal claws of his front two legs and bent his spinnerets up to bind her beltline to his web as he spun her in a mad pirouette, the speed dizzying. “Oh, oh. Oh, no. No. Tricks from fairies are remembered here, lamb. No, no, there you will  _ stay. _ ”

Luna blinked, pausing her frantic scribbling long enough to brush the hair from her eyes. “Oh, well, my grandmother is a fairy - I suspect it’s her you’re so cross with - but I’m a witch. And a Magizoologist. Please, call me Luna.”

The spider angled his red-black eyes to peer at her more directly and then stilled ominously for several seconds before he spoke. “You? The Infamous Lady Lovegood?”

She blinked in surprise. “Well, I’m  _ hardly-” _

“-Founder of New Aeaea, sanctuary for all magical intelligences?” he cut her off. “Student of diverse beings and creatures? Magical scientist and nonwizard rights activist, armer of elves, freer of phookas? Mother of half-beings, amalgam of more?  _ That _ Luna the Magizoologist?”

She frowned.  _ She _ hadn’t heard it called that. And… was she...  _ infamous? _

_ How very odd. _

He, meanwhile, seemed to take her silence for assent and chittered excitedly. “I’ve read your work on the Galapagos, particularly the aquatic population thereof, as well as various newspapers speculating on the political ramifications of your rebellion. My acolytes bring me what fodder they can to distract me from my imprisonment here.”

Luna snapped out of her reflection upon her own reputation. “Acolytes? Imprisonment?”

The spider seemed to sigh, drawing back into himself a capacity for threatening posture and anger. “Your vile grandmother is no more hallowed than I, whatever luck let her chain me thus.” He peered closely at her again, running his feet and pedipalps over her as his chelicerae vibrated with speech. “Whatever did you do to anger her so that she would send you my way? Surely she knows I need proximate willingness, not just her consent that I should, in my ravenous isolation, devour another of her enemies.”

Luna gulped. “Em. Well, Sir - do you have a name?”

“Yes.” he replied flatly. “Several.”

Luna gazed at him a moment but his eyes remained fixed and he gave no indication of any intent to say more.

“Well,” she mused finally, her eyes growing detached and dreamy as she considered, even as her fingers worked to close away her notebook and pencil again. “I’m sure we can arrange something.”


	5. Curses and Hunger

The spider stalked away from her across his web in disgust, his movement somehow melodramatic as he … paced.  _ Most peculiar _ , she thought.

“We most certainly cannot.” He chittered in rage. “I  _ release _ you, and I accept the permanence of my torment. I  _ destroy _ you, as is my  _ right _ , even with your permission, and every creature and being the world over, along with a goodly portion of my kin and worshippers and some significant portion of wizarding kind, would rise up to destroy me. She sent a symbol I cannot devour without dooming myself. That cunning ass-mistress, that bedeviling harridan…”

She let him rant and pace a while, letting her mind drift to less tiresome things, like the truly magnificent system of delicate joints that, together on each well-turned leg, allowed him his speed, agility, and impressively intimidating gait. Unlike other Acromantulae she’d seen, this one had the sort of fuzzed, colorfully-patterned abdominal flap common in peacock spiders. His second or third pair of legs - he moved so quickly she could scarcely tell - shared the length and multi-color feet of that species as well. Additionally, despite his obvious masculinity (his cymbia and palpal bulbs bulged almost…  _ optimistically _ ), below his fine plumage he shared some of the gratuitous colorful spines and spikes typically characteristic of some  _ female  _ orb weavers, notably one extremely long set of shining horns that swept up in stately arcs from his hindquarters. They looked magnificent but, she thought, must create monumental logistical difficulty. 

She had, of course, noted all this, and even if some misfortune befell her here, she was giddy and grinning at the thought of the  _ Gemini’ _ d field journal home on her desk, ensuring this remarkable creature would be recorded for the knowledge of the wider Magizoological world. 

The spider, meanwhile, literally jumped up and down grumbling to himself in the midst of a little hissy fit. Whoever this was, she did not think great emotional maturity was his hallmark. But he was just  _ so _ gorgeous.

_ “Mmmmph,” _ she sighed, eyes raking over him as she daydreamed of all the other things she’d love to study him doing - taking prey, spinning webs, taking a mate, meeting these acolytes, fighting for dominance with other males (though how any could compare, she did not know). 

Doing a little burlesque with that lovely peacock-like tail of his. “Yum,” she mumbled, leaning to get as good a look as she could while he soliloquyed and bemoaned his fate and carried on like an angsty adolescent. 

Suddenly he stilled, his claw-tipped pedipalps twitching as he lightly turned his tremendous bulk toward her. 

And then, slowly, he walked toward her, volume building in his outraged voice. “And is this her idea of a  _ joke?”  _ he raged, settling over her to glare directly at her again.

She blinked in confusion. “Eh?” she replied weakly, distracted as she tried to see the interior structures of his beautiful, liquid eyes in the dark.

He started madly chittering again. “She covered you with the pheromone-drenched silk of a female acromantula, but … but… to somehow contrive to make your own  _ body _ smell aroused, to make it attractive to me even in  _ this _ form, how has the vile old shrew..?! Ugh!” 

He ran his pedipalps over her, smelling her, she realized, as they groped up and down her torso and hesitantly over her hips.

At which point his entire bulk ratcheted low over her and his magnificent decorative feet and colorful abdominal flap went suddenly erect, as if he could not help himself, the web vibrating beneath his twitching feet.

Feeling a bit feverish, she gulped up at what, at this range, was actually so intimidating a sight that it was impossible even for her to remain a properly academic sort of remove in observing it. “Em,” she said, mind scrambling, “I… have a natural biological response to exceptionally beautiful, virile creatures. I apologize if I have offended you, but it’s really quite involuntary, and I did not know the origin of the silk.”

He moaned, quite an oddly plaintive sound from such a large, terrifying creature. “I haven’t been properly objectified by anyone intelligent in  _ centuries,”  _ he whined.

She blinked, beginning to see a solution. “Em, tell me, sir, what was the exact wording of the curse that bound you here?”

He shook, only partly pulled from the depths of his reverie as his legs swayed above him, colorful flap patterned, she saw now, to resemble a laughing face, working to tease like a marabou fan. “Last I saw her, that virago said I’d be bound to this place and form forever or until her very own flesh willed me to feast on it until my hunger was so satisfied I wanted nothing more.” He chittered a sort of dark laugh. “I have  _ never _ wanted nothing more, and you are a tiny little snack, even if you do come in search of death.”

She thought a moment, watching his legs click up, left, right, lulled into a sort of liquid state by the ongoing vibration of the web. “Huh. Not death. But for a name to call you, I will gladly let you devour me another way.”

He stilled, legs and fan shooting straight up. “Surely you cannot…” the clicking monster trailed off.

She smiled, subtly widening the parting of her knees to let him smell her better. “I am very willing to be of service. It is an experience I think I’d never forget?”

The spider groaned, his front two feet throwing her own only pair up over her head as he pulled her silken dress away like so much cobweb. “Call me … Antomi.”


	6. Palpation

She arched her back with a guttural scream as he thrust the first pedipalp up into her, its bulging reservoirs stretching her as its coarse hairs and clawed tip pricked at her with a delicious pain. This was a strange act, stranger for the incongruousness of their congress, but it satisfied some primitive sense of how such a pair could copulate, crossed some curse-burned line that felt dangerous and fertile and real. And it _burned_. In her mind, briefly, she was back between a press of mermen, herself being magnificently objectified, subjected to other strange, barbed organs of sex, love, and procreation.

The spider shuddered, tearing at her slightly as he withdrew that palp and, quick as lightning, harsh as a rasp, inserted the other. She shook and moaned. No, this was different. The mouth-nose-phallus combination of its organs. The peculiar feeling of diminution she got from being taken by a creature whose like she was more accustomed to seeing so very small. 

She was thankful that several species she was descended from had adapted to rough and abrasive lovemaking, she thought, even as he jumped while hooked within her, creating a sort of similar sensation to the thrusts in and out a humanoid male would use to inseminate her. 

As she felt him shudder and begin to probe at her stretched entrance with the currently excluded palp, she smiled dreamily, reaching around her pinned leps to caress the sides of his glowing eyes, his bright chelicerae, with her outflung hands. 

His hindlegs danced half-involuntarily in pleasure as she felt him begin to pump his semen deep into her. He had, however, an air still of holding something back.

“Mmm… you won’t break me, you know,” she said, letting her head fall back and willing her muscles to relax in anticipation. "And I won't bite your head off if you let yourself go."

An inquisitive rumble went through the spider, who, twitching and ejaculating within her, seemed beyond words. Some other pair of his legs raked over her, groping.

“Fuck me properly, Antomi,” she murmured, gazing unfocused into his many eyes as she bobbed with the hesitant thrusts of his palp. She tilted her head up to suck gently on the terminus of one chelicera before letting her neck relax again. “Otherwise, it doesn’t count as devouring.”

At which the spider (who wasn’t really), screamed, driving the second palp deep alongside the first and forcing her legs open wider.


	7. Transformative Acts

She dimly registered the acceleration of time as the gigantic spider shuddered and convulsed on top of her, his barbs and fluids burning exquisitely through her as, as sometimes happened, she experienced a strange separation during which her intellect floated clinically above her body and every iota left of her became focused exclusively on sex. 

The intellect was peaceful, noting vast differences between previously recorded phenomena and this congress, which had quite a lot of showboating and took an exceptionally long time. 

_ Definitely _ not just a spider. But definitely  _ in part _ a spider, too.

The rest of her writhed and screamed and moaned and clung so hard to his legs that spiny bristles broke off and splintered her hands, unheeded. Met the onslaught of his supernaturally endless thrusts with a froth of blood and desire and countless orgasms and pleading and exalting. Babbled endlessly through tears for him to fill her with his little spider children, and to go just a bit deeper, just a bit harder, to spread her open just… there, yes, there, yes, yes, yes.

…  _ yes. _

_ Definitely _ not just a witch, she thought, seeing herself from beyond herself, white-glowing and whole despite the punishing strength that rent into her. Viscerally satiated despite and because of this, perhaps her most grotesque embrace yet from any outside eye’s perspective. Dripping for more.

But definitely  _ in part _ a witch, too.

Finally, after seven days and seven nights, an iridescent trail of fluid streaming down from the point of their congress to form a river atop the watery forest floor, something changed.

For an instant, it was a slight but unutterably strong, puckish fae, androgynous but for his prodigious cock, laboring over her, laughing and fluttering his dragonfly wings to push him closer. 

Then, it was a great desert hare who crouched over her, hips pumping at blurring speed as he frothed into her. 

For a loitering hour, it was a great blue giant, skin as cold as ice, canny and calculating of gaze in a way Hagrid and his kin had never been, leaving frostbitten fingerprints etched into her hips where he clutched them like a possessive tattoo, pumping her up and down his ice-like rod with enough speed to generate friction and heat.

For a moment, an enormous Coyote twisted around to mount her from behind, his fangs sinking into the joint of her shoulder and neck to hold her beneath him, his delightedly wagging tail sweeping such broad arcs as to happily thwack at her flanks as a knot swelled inside her.

And then, skin deep-dark and shining with sweat, a huge man, blazing white teeth grinning feral from his ebony face as he pounded her until she mewled, his fingers entering her everywhere, his tongue probing her mouth with a skittering hint of the barbed celcera that had been as he bit down on her lip gently, but not so gently he didn’t taste her blood and swallow it with delectation.

When this form howled his triumph above her, filling her for the thousandth time, she heard all the voices woven into one, saw every form, understood the entirety perfectly for one incredible instant. 

And then, like a moment’s intuitive understanding of non-Euclidean geometries, it dissolved again into fragments and jumbled abstractions in her mind.


	8. Divine Attention

When she woke, she was entangled in the snoring form of the dark, laughing-eyed man, who had found some nonchalant way to grasp her possessively with every limb he had.

She glanced down. Just the standard human-ish four, though, now.

Though her waist had been cut free eons ago, they were still in the web, which felt like some trapeze artist’s soft safety net, like some enormous sailor’s hammock, rocking gently in the humid breeze. She could hear the chatter and song of animals in the distance, but they seemed to be giving a respectful berth to the sleeping lovers.

The enormous man surrounding her had a muscular body and a young face, though his eyes were liberally lined at the corners - as if he never stopped laughing. Indeed, even in sleep, his lips curled into an insouciant smile. 

And then, he stretched, and familiarly bright eyes suddenly gazed back at her, teeth flashing white behind a broad smile. “Let’s go again,” he said, immediately flipping her under him and hauling himself to his knees behind her while she squacked in surprise. 

“Mmm, taking that for enthusiastic consent," he said, "knowing what you could do to me even without that little stick you had with you, if you weren’t game.”

She caught a glimpse of his grin over her shoulder before he slid into her, his large phallus a marvel of fluctuating form against her sore, wet insides as he began to unhurriedly fuck her. There, a frisson of ice. There, bristles and barbs. 

Sometimes, just an exceptionally well-endowed man with a woman he was exceptionally fond of. 

She settled onto her elbows and let her eyes drift half-closed, twisting her hips up to illicit little whimpers from him at the end of each thrust. 

“So,” she said, breathless.

He bent to nibble and gnaw at her shoulder, hands coming around to palm her breasts with a grunt of approval. “So,” he replied, around a mouthful of her neck.

“Curse?” she rasped, watching the sun start to soar by entirely too fast again. 

“Mmmm…” He straightened with one parting tweak to her nipples, grasping her hips to pump into her faster and harder as the moon began to rise. “Broken.”

She smirked, leaning back to knock him, surprised, over onto his ass and then his back, supine, as she took over the rhythm of riding him. He moaned in delectation, his hands hovering over the roundness of her cheeks as they bounced over him without grasping them, torn between gazing at their jiggle and sinking his fingers in. The moon slowed marginally, perhaps lingering smuggly to see its namesake seizing the upper hand. 

The glowing trail, she noted, still trickled down from the point of their connection.

“And you loiter because… you want a larger river named after you when you go around propagating the mythic story of how you shapeshifter-battle-tumbled your freedom out of a dim-witted witch here?” she panted, grinding down onto him harder, twitching to feel the shape of two pedipalps stretching her again for a bare moment.

“That,” he panted back, “is  _ not _ how this story goes  _ at all _ .” He gave in, somehow magically slickening his hand and sinking it between her cheeks, fingers probing into her tight nether-passage. 

“Oh?” she said, her voice hitching marginally as his fingers slid to the second knuckle, but only increasing her pace. 

“Perhaps it's of how, after sleepless eons, the white witch made the naughty god so tired he wanted to sleep at least once a week and would never let her stop exhausting him,” he said, palm beginning to sink into her as his thumb also pried open a way. “Also, very big river. Potentially an inland sea and several new exotic animal species and new peoples, spilling from their fecund union.”

She snorted, eyes narrowing as she bore down on his growing phallus _and_ his closing fist in a streak of tight, wet heat that seemed to borrow more power to move with blurring speed from the trickster god's reservoir. “She sent me,” she wheezed between heavy breaths and moans, “to lay down with an _actual_ _angry god_ ,” she mused, feeling her burning, overused clit building to explosive brinks.

Over her shoulder, she saw him nod. “I did mention she's an absolute and utter bitch, right?”

Luna’s lips twitched, her eyes fluttering closed as her movement became more abandoned, more erratic. Two hands closed steadyingly on her hips - though another somehow managed to remain fisted inside her, fairly punching in and out as she rode him. “She did make you at least a demigoddess, though, so want to see a trick?”

She sensed him building some sort of power before they screamed out in unison, startling her, and thunder struck one of the trees the web anchored to, setting it aflame. 

The downpour a half instant later quickly extinguished it, though.

While she gaped, he pulled her dumbstruck form around under him, hitching her knees over his shoulders as he positioned himself between her legs. “Magical simultaneous orgasms!” he hummed happily, somehow already hard again even as she pulsed and twitched and his seed streamed from her even as he pushed determinedly back in.

“Also rain,” she remarked breathlessly, eyes rolling back as he slid fully into her, the glorious deluge coursing over their sweat and filth.

“That too,” he said, shifting into a spider and giving his abdominal flap a jaunty little wave as he spread his two pedipalps wide apart within her until she screamed.

Several more days later, his icy blue form collapsed on her back as he ejaculated volleys of hail up into her, some of it rolling out of her yet-unfrozen, and she murmured. “I need to get home.”

He groaned sleepily, pulling his arms around her petulantly.

“No.”

She nodded doggedly. “Yes.” She squirmed to unstick her warm flesh from the cold of him. “Curse is broken. Fun was had. Please don’t expect to get out of this without me writing about you.”

He smirked over at her, his enormous body letting his blue-muscled torso curl around such that he could meet her eye. “I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”

She shook her head, unable to help the hint of a smile that she let slip. “I think you’re rather full of yourself.”

Immediately, his flaccid cock started to swell again within her, slush gushing out of her to make way. “I think  _ you’re _ rather full of me.”

“Oh no!” she wailed, hands flying up to cover her eyes. “You said that was the last time.”

“I lie,” he said, breaking to kiss her fervently, “famously.”

“Last time,” she growled, menacingly as she could make it, as he hauled her up and astride his kneeling thighs, facing him.

“For now,” he said, “If you promise I will be in your heart, and you in mine, and that we shall meet again.” He grasped her hips and thumped her up and down over his erection with no apparent effort devoted to any part of it but perfecting the angles.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but her lips parted helplessly and a moan escaped. “Alright.”

He brightened like a child, morphing into the puckish fae without missing a beat. “Alright?” he repeated excitedly.

She nodded, then let her head loll back, losing herself in the sensation as he shifted through a flurry of forms and positions, tossed about on the sea of his joy like a small ship left no option but to trust utterly in the providence of the waves. 

Her eyes were closed when a bit of his blue glow detached and sank into her chest, and a bit of her white sank likewise into his.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's one way to come out of sabbatical, Dr. Lovegood. 
> 
> More tales of our favorite intrepid Magizoologist's social overlapping (and lapping, and...) to sooth your frayed nerves to come.


End file.
